bambi
by ocxptainmycaptain
Summary: She reminded him of Bambi; knob kneed and doe-eyed, cute little freckles caressing her cheekbones. He looked to her hands, in which she held an ugly black gun and a bloodstained knife. They were soldiers with a mission. He made it his to protect her.
1. prologue

18th November 1942

Saint-Nazaire, France.

The small blonde girl held back tears as she watched the bombs fall like shooting stars in the night sky around her, the warmth of a burning house scorching her back and the orange glow burning her eyes. She clutched a dainty golden locket between her fingers. Debris from the bombs and the fire had cut into her; blood and dirt coated her legs as she began to push herself to run from the German Nazi voices shouting, "We've missed one! There she is!"

She didn't know where she was going. So she ran, straight into the rubble of the bombed out city streets in hopes to find safety. She shrieked at the sight of dead bodies; many missing arms and legs, many still living.

The small blonde fought through the stabbing pain shooting throughout her body as she dodged parked cars and prayed she wouldn't end up in the crossfire. In the distance, she could hear French shouting; she directed herself towards the voices, desperately seeking safety in anyone.

The voices led her to the side of a bridge as people seemingly began to set a bomb. The small blonde threw her hands up, the international sign of surrender, and began to cry out in a desperate, breaking voice, "Aidez-moi, s' il vous plait! I need help! Please!"

The people, though hesitant, sent an older woman running to the girl's side.

"Who are you?" The woman asked in French, slowing down before she could get a step closer to the small blonde girl.

"N-Noelle Rousseau- I just- I need help," Noelle paused to breath, shaking as the sobs continued to pour out, "Our house- our- it's gone, everyone's gone, they've burned it-"

The older woman immediately took Noelle under her arm, trying to calm her screams down as they made their way back over near the tracks, "You're safe, you'll be okay now. We'll take care of you, shh, I got you."

Noelle woke up face-to-face with an ugly brick wall, having slept on a dusty, dirty old mattress and a scraggly blood-stained hospital blanket. There were papers scattered among the floor, as well as pinned and taped to the walls. But she wasn't the only one there; whispering voices filled the dimly-lit room.

"Ah, look, Marie's girl has finally come-to." A deep French-accented voice shattered the looming silence in the room. Noelle turned her head and was greeted with about eight other people, with wide eyes watching as she stirred.

"Mmmm, it's about damn time that girl woke up. I honestly thought she'd died and we'd just delayed getting rid of the body. Wouldn't be the first time that happened." A different American-accented voice chimed in, followed by the rustling of papers and footsteps.

A man, who appeared to be in his mid-thirties, plopped down next to Noelle.

"So, Marie tells us your name is Noelle, correct?" He asked, furrowing his eyebrows. He had fiery red hair and caramel-tinted eyes, along with red freckles spanning cheekbone to cheekbone.

Noelle nodded her head, though refrained from speaking.

The red headed man paused for a moment before asking his next question, "And you're house. It was burned a few nights ago?"

"Oui," She paused, processing the words before shaking her head, "Wait- a few nights ago?"

"You've been out for about three days, kid. Gotta admit, you haven't missed much; except Marie. She's the one who brought ya here. She's gone off to Berlin."

Noelle paused, yet again, with her eyebrows furrowed, "Berlin?"

"We're fighting a war here, kid. Haven't you heard about those damn Nazi fuckers? Man, you've been living under a rock." The man let out a laugh, as he wrapped an arm around Noelle.

Noelle uncomfortably adjusted to the man's arm wrapped around her, wrapping her fists into little balls.

"How rude of me- I'm Charlie. That's Edward, Dominic, Josephine, Leo, and Manon," Charlie pointed to a different body with every new name. He paused for a few moments, "Mm, yep- that's about all of us down here. We're a pretty big group sometimes."

"Noelle, I'd like to welcome you to the French Resistance. You can leave if you want to, of course, but a pretty lil' bird like you could make an excellent spy. Can you shoot a gun?"


	2. i the beginning of the end

_warning; this chapter gets a little gory towards the end_

 _& could be sensitive to some people._

16th October 1943

 _Saint-Nazaire, France._

"Igot a pretty big project I can send ya on if you want it. I'll give you the rundown." Charlie paused, looking behind his shoulder at Noelle, who rested stomach-first on her little cot reading away at _A Farewell To Arms_.

"Yeah? Well, go ahead then, don't just wait around for me to answer. 'We're fighting a war here!'" Noelle mimicked the American, speaking with her desperate attempt at an American accent by making her voice sound deeper and scratchier.

Charlie shot her one of _those_ looks, and tucked the yellow folder back under his arm and began to leave his desk, "Fine, be that way. I'll give it to Dominique. I'm sure she'd do a better job, anyway."

"No, no, wait, Charlie, I was kidding!" Noelle laughed, chasing after him, "Give it to me."

"Alright, basically. You've caught wind of all the Hydra bullshit lately?" He asked, making his way back over to the desk and motioning for her to follow.

Noelle shrugged her shoulders as she propped herself against the corner of the desk, "Uh, vaguely, I guess. I couldn't tell you exact details, but I do know bits and pieces."

"Hm. Good enough. That's all you need to know." Charlie passed Noelle various papers before pulling out a map, marked up with what looked like little octopus heads in Nazi hats, "You like Italy? 'Cause you're headed out to Italy as soon as godly possible. We've been asked to send, and I quote, 'an unlikely soldier' to meet up with the 107th. Help infiltrate Hydra bases, slaughter the Nazi's, whatever ya gotta do out there, kid. I want you to be the lil' information retainer, alright? Nothing different than you've been doing. Just, for christsakes, keep yourself alive. I don't want to have to explain to god-knows-who why the hell a malnourished French girl is out there fighting with the boys. Too much damn controversy, I tell you."

There was a few seconds of lingering silence as Noelle scanned the papers. It wasn't long until she'd found herself nodding enthusiastically, "I'll take it."

"I mean it's not like you've got much of a choice. I was going to make you go anyway," He claimed, placing all of the neatly typed papers back into their manila folder, "I'll have you on a train in an hour and a half; I'll call Colonel Phillips and tell him you're on your way. You can hopefully take a train out of France, but once you hit Italy, you'll need to travel via car. Colonel Phillips will be sending someone- I believe a Sargent by the name of James Barnes or something like that- to the train station to pick you up at 0400, and from there, you make the rules, kid." Charlie placed a hand on Noelle's shoulder, a smile coming across his face, "Good luck out there, Noelle. Go rip 'em to shreds." 

The train station was just a few blocks away from their safe house. Given the lack of material objects she'd possessed, Noelle had gotten the good majority of her things packed and ready to go with about an hour to spare.

Given the high possibility that she'd never make it back home to France, she had one last important stop to make. One last goodbye.

With an army green messenger bag slung across her shoulder, she walked through what was left of her street. Flashbacks of happier days as a young kid flooded her mind; the smell of her mother's pastries still lingered in her nose and her father's guitar playing still comforted her ears, her older sister's bickering still interrupted and her little brother's soccer ball could still be felt at her feet.

Though, through the happy memories, the memory of the night of the fire still haunted her mind. It had been such a normal night. Almost too normal; they'd eaten dinner together, laughing and bickering just as always.

How the Nazi's had discovered that her family had been communist was beyond her.

The way the fire heated up her skin. The way their eyes lacked empathy as they shot her father. The sound of the soldier's boots chasing after her once they'd realized she'd escaped with only a few cuts and bruises.

Everyday she cursed those damn Nazi's; they left her without a family. They'd taken everything.

Just as everyday she woke up promising to seek vengeance for her family; even if that meant risking her own life.

As she laid the lively and colorful flowers down in the pile of all the dead and wilting flowers she'd left over the course of the year, with tears in her eyes, she softly hummed a sad tune to herself. Taking a deep breath, she turned around and began walking away from the rubble for the last time. 

The train ride to Italy was worse than Charlie had made it sound. People stared at her; Noelle felt like the whole world- or at least, the whole train- knew her ambitions. Noelle wore a collared blue dress that had buttons from the top to bottom and a belt that caressed the little curve in her waist. A large tan jacket sat upon her shoulders. She had on black Mary Jane heels and her blonde locks were left straight, hanging under Charlie's brown newsboy cap.

Her looks caused a few of the women on the train to do a double take as their boyfriends whistled softy at the young girl as she walked by.

When she finally got to her seat, she sat her bags down next to her feet and lit a single cigarette. She let it dangle from her lips as she cracked open her book; _A Farewell To Arms,_ by Ernest Hemingway.

Noelle sat, smoking her cigarette and flipping through pages of the novel as she waited patiently for the train to begin rolling. For a few moments, she began to think she'd be the only one in the first class room of seats; until, of course, a young Nazi soldier who was around her age sat down next to her.

The situation quickly grew tense. Noelle, suddenly aware of the guns and knives strapped to her thighs and hidden in her bag, shifted her weight and tugged at the bottom of her dress.

"What's a pretty little German girl reading something like that? The Fuhrer had that banned, you know." The young man, looking over her shoulder at the words, informed her, attempting to have an authoritative tone.

Noelle looked up, taking the cigarette from her lips and flicking a few ashes into the ashtray that sat on the window seal, "Didn't your mother ever teach you to mind your own business?"

The soldier immediately picked up on her heavy French accent, raising a single eyebrow as a smug look fell upon his cheeks, "Ah, a French girl. My mother always told me France possessed the fairest of them all; I'm beginning to believe her, now that I've seen them up close and personal." He spoke in a suggestive tone, inching closer to Noelle.

She tried to ignore him, though her attempts seemed to fail. The Nazi wrapped an arm around her.

"Lighten up, _Mein Liebster_. It's just a silly war. You look like you could use a good loving up in your life anyway. Pop out a few kids; that's what a woman like you is good for."

"Get off of me, you filthy animal," Noelle took her cigarette out of her mouth yet again, this time placing the lit end on the soldier's arm. He tried to flick it off, but she pushed down with even more force than before. After the cigarette had burned into his flesh, she tossed it into the ashtray and stood up, "My family died because of your kind. I don't want anything to do with you."

The Nazi didn't hesitate to follow. He stood, swinging his hand back and throwing it across Noelle's cheek. She'd seen the golden flash of brass knuckles right as his hand drug across her face, leaving an ugly red gash on her eye and splitting her lip open, "Didn't _your_ mother ever teach you to respect your men? Filthy whore."

The Nazi didn't have second thoughts when he violently pulled her close to him.

Noelle gasped, instinctively grabbing the switch blade from her thigh and switching it open. Pushing him against the wall, she held the cold blade to the Nazi's throat, a mean glare overtaking her soft ocean-colored eyes, "I can promise you she did; but seeing as how you're no man to the eyes of many, including my own, I've no reason to respect you. I'm more of a man than you'd ever be. To Hell with the Nazis, and to Hell with you."

Though Charlie told her the number one rule was to not hesitate, she hesitated. It was the first time, in her year of fighting alongside the resistance, that she'd ever found herself to hesitate. Just as the soldier's hands reached up for her throat, Noelle snapped out of it and swiftly dug the blade across his own throat. She let the body slump to the floor; the sticky crimson fluid continually flowing out of him. Noelle sat back down, tears welling in her eyes as she studied the blood that was coating her hands. For the rest of the train ride, quiet sobs filled the room. It wasn't the first life Noelle had claimed; she'd taken the lives of Nazi's ranked much higher than the man. Officers and generals alike. But never has she looked so deeply into the eyes of her victim that she could feel the same amount of pain; even if they, too, we're trying to kill her.

There was no use in trying to read her book- the blood had stained the pages and the ink had run across the pages, causing the words to run together like they had never even belonged there.

So, there sat the little blonde girl with the bloodied face and the black eye and the busted lip, sobbing for the dead German soldier and the world itself.

She felt the train come to a stop. She checked her watch; 0400.

The little blonde girl quickly gathered her belongings, cleaned off her knife, and packed her bloodstained book. She kept her head down as she quickly got off the train, looking for the man by the name of Sargent James Barnes.


	3. ii the name game

16th October 1943

 _Some train station near the Italian/France border._

It was 0405 when Bucky first laid eyes on the pitiful looking girl as she stumbled through the train station during the unholy hours of the morning. How in God's name a scrawny, beaten up girl who quite honestly reminded him of the little deer, Bambi, was supposed to fight against men twice her size was beyond him. He had heard the stories; and had pictured her to have more of a manly look to her.

"Pardon," She spoke, breaking the eerily silence that loomed around the station. She shuffled closer to the uniformed man, keeping her distance. It was dark, and there was no way she could've differentiated the American from the Nazi, "Are you Sergeant James Barnes?" Her high-pitch, heavily accented voice matched the petite frame; also the complete opposite of what Bucky had pictures. It wavered as she spoke; her nerves- and the fact that she'd been crying- getting the best of her.

With a smile and a nod, he stuck out a hand, "You must be Noelle. It's a pleasure to finally meet you. Colonel Phillips has been telling us all about your work with the French Resistance over the past year; pretty impressive stuff if you ask me. The car's right over there if you want to get going- I don't see how standing around this station'll serve us much good."

Noelle, though trying to keep her face down and out of eyesight of Bucky, glanced up for a fraction of a second as she shook his hand. She made note of his appearance; his dark hair could almost been mistakes for jet black, but she could see as the light struck each strand the hints of brown shine through. She made sure to avert her eyes back to Bucky's shoes quickly as to not catch his eyes with her own.

Following close behind him, she continued to keep her head down, eyes glued to the cement floors of the station. As soon as the pair made it to the car, she slid quickly into the passenger seat. The driver's door click open; it wasn't long until Bucky noticed the crimson blood dripping onto the contrasting blue fabric of her dress.

"Oh, god, are you hurt?" He tried to ask in the most non-awkward way possible, but failed miserably. He furrowed his eyebrows as he tried his best to see what hide behind the matted golden locks that framed her face.

Noelle panicked. She shook her head, placing the palm of her hand atop the bloodied gash and held back a wince, "No, no— it's just a nasty scratch. No big deal, I promise."

"Here, let me take a look—"

"No, that'll be okay. I'm fine. I promise."

Bucky hesitated, though knowing not to argue with a woman, eventually gave in. The car's engine started with a loud roar and soon enough, the pair were on their way in dead silence. Noelle didn't seem to be much of a talker, or maybe she was just uncomfortable given the current situation, but the silence made Bucky squirm.

"So, uh, Noelle, where are you from?" He asked, glancing over to the passengers seat.

A few seconds of utter silence passed. Noelle adjusted the seatbelt, as if she purposefully intended to dodge his attempts to force conversation upon the two.

Eventually, she cleared her throat, "France."

Bucky let out a quiet chuckle, "Well, if that's not a broad answer then I don't know what is," He paused, the laugh still lingering throughout his words, "What part of France?"

"Saint-Nazaire." Noelle fiddled with a loose string from the hem of her dress as she spoke, her voice still undoubtedly quiet and borderline monotonous, "Where are you from, James?"

"Just call me Bucky- I'm from New York. Brooklyn."

Noelle gave a small nod before returning her attention to loose string hailing from the bottom of her dress. She sighed, her head hitting the back of the headrest with a light thump. They drove down the road for a few miles before either of them stirred up conversation.

"Why did you join the armed forces, Sargent Barnes?"

Bucky was startled at the sudden question spouting from Noelle. It involved much more thought than just the simple, 'where are you from?'

He started to talk, until he'd stop himself; giving himself even more time to think.

"Ah, well, they were calling for all able-bodied men, and I fit the description. I wasn't going to sit back and not enlist. I figure it's the best I could do for my country; and, if it saves a married, family man from having to ship out, then so be it." He explained, "Why'd you start working with the French Resistance?"

"To put it simply—" Noelle took in a sharp, stabbing breath; a promise to herself not to bring herself tears, "The Nazi's took everything I had. I intend to take as much from them as I can."

The silence returned for a few seconds. The promise Noelle had made to herself shattered into a million pieces at the familiar feeling of warm tears running down her face, hoping and praying that the man she'd met mere minutes beforehand wouldn't notice.

But, he did. Just like he'd noticed the gaping wounds that caressed the side of her face.

He already knew better than to point them out.

"So, how'd you end up here, Bambi? How'd you manage to escape?"

Noelle quickly pulled herself together, wiping the tears off her face and shrugging her shoulders, "A lot of running away. A lot of putting my trust into the hands strangers; it's what I'm continuing to do now, is it not?"

16th October 1943

 _Five miles from the Italian front._

"I speak on the behalf of the entirety of the 107th; we are very honored and pleased to have you working with us, Miss—"

"Rousseau."

"Ah, yes, that's right. Rousseau. Well then, Miss Rousseau, I can get Sergeant Barnes to show you the ropes— perhaps introduce her to a few of the men, as well. Oh, and uh, get that nasty cut checked out by a medic while you're at it. For the barracks situation, you'll be sharing quarters with Agent Carter. Again, I'm honored to have to fighting for us." Colonel Phillips hesitantly shook the hand of the child-like French girl. He'd asked for a soldier; not a milkmaid. Choosing to ignore the 'soldier' the French had sent him, he promptly went back to the mountain of paperwork that sat on the makeshift desk.

"Guess your stuck with me for a few more minutes then, Bambi." Bucky nudged Noelle's side as the two walked out of the colonel's tent and towards the groups of men.

She crossed her arms in a huff of frustration, "That's not my name."

"Are you sure? You look like a Bambi to—"

Noelle stopped walking, placing a hand on Bucky's shoulder to stop him as well, "Sergeant Barnes, I hate to put a damper on all the fun you're having picking on me with your little nicknames. I don't know about you, but I'm here to not only fight a war, but to win a war; is that understood?" Noelle paused, tucking a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear as she caught her breath, "Now, as much as I am appreciative for you picking me up at the train station and providing decent conversation for the ride, I would really even more so appreciate it if you just showed me to my bed and left me alone for the remainder of my time here, please and thank you."

Bucky was taken aback by how much the girl had let out. After all, it was the most he'd gotten her to open up. Even if it wasn't necessarily the nicest. "Follow me, then. It's just a little ways through these tents. I'll have one of the medics stop by and stitch you up."

The pair walked cross the grounds in silence; Noelle could feel the eyes of hundreds of men burning into her skin and she could hear the whispering rise up among them. She couldn't fathom the questions they had.

Bucky stopped walking at one of the drab looking tents and swung open the flap with his arm, "This is your stop, then. I'm sure you and Agent Carter will get along just fine. I'll have that medic stop by soon."

Noelle nodded, "Thank you, again, James-"

"I prefer Bucky, actually."

"Right." Noelle let out an airy laugh, that could almost be classified as a more of a scoff, "I'll see you, then, Bucky." She said, ducking into the tent and leaving Bucky outside.

"See ya round, Bambi!" He yelled after her, a smirk overtaking his lips as he walked away from the tent.


End file.
